I've just learned that 96% of the universe is made up of stuff we don't understand, can't measure, and, until very recently, didn't even know existed. Personally I find this extremely reassuring. A big mystery in my life is finally solved. I mean, think about it. What chance did both of my marriages have when we were all so clueless regarding the fundamental nature of everything? On a very deep, quantum level, I feel vindicated. In fact, I'm thinking of sending a note to both exes. Something along the lines of, "I told you that dark energy wasn't just coming from me. It was in you, the coffee table, your mother - it was all around us. Goo goo g'joob, baby!"

When I started writing vanity cards, way back in 1995, few people noticed them. Most of those who did assumed they were some sort of legal boilerplate. Heck, even if someone got curious and hit 'pause' on their VCR, there was no guarantee they'd be able to read the darn thongs. Now... forget about it. Every card gets parses and analyzed like it was a Canticle for Leibowitz (great book check it out). The jokes are taken way too seriously and the stories all have to have a secret meaning. (Sometimes a junkie monkey is just a junkie monkey.) Don't get me wrong. There's a part of me that loves to exploit his silliness. What other possible reason would I have to write the following poem?

He knew where the bodies were buried,'cause they weren't buried deep. Always follow the money,silence doesn't come cheap.

Hardly a day goes by when I don't think about quitting this business. Hanging it up. Taking my proverbial bat and ball and going home. In my imagination, the day after I quit is a wonderful, relaxing, joyful experience. I reconnect with old friends, walk on the beach, read, listen to music, play guitar, play golf, eat leisurely meals off of real plates, exercise, meditate, maybe go see a matinee, or take a stab at writing a few pages of a self-indulgent, joke-free play filled with people screaming at each other, and then, after taking the dog for a walk, climb into bed and fall into a peaceful, stress-free sleep. The day after that, bored out of my mind, I start drinking around the clock and quickly descend into a dark, frothing madness that leads to either being institutionalized or liver failure and an agonizing premature death. The really scary part? There's hardly a day goes by when I don't think about quitting this business.

"I have long believed that we as human beings are genetically inclined to elevate and worship those of us we deem to be very beautiful or very talented. We do this because we are somehow comforted by our adoration. It makes us feel good. As children we sleep beneath the images of movie, TV, music and sports stars and dream about the mystery and grandeur of their lives. As adults, the posters come off the wall, only to be replaced by a steady, noxious stream of tabloid vulture. But perhaps most enjoyable of all is watching the fall from grace. Nothing beats a good ol' public crucifixion. Especially when it's self-inflicted. My theory for why this is considered entertainment is, again, a genetic one. DNA, even if it's mediocre, wants to ensure it's own survival. The existence of superior DNA is viewed as a threat. When beautiful and talented people screw up, we can't help but feel that this somehow improves the chance for our mediocre descendants to eat meat. In other words, evolution my ass."

This site is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com